Goodbye Blue Sky
by Verin Mystal
Summary: America and Russia work together on a ground-breaking project in space.
1. Chapter 1

**Goodbye Blue Sky  
By:** Verin Mystal  
**Summary:** America and Russia work together on a ground-breaking project in space.  
**Note:** This was written for the LJ community's Secret Santa event for inner_wings (ProcrastinatingPalindrome here on ffnet) prompt. I tried to give this some real-world weight and possible issues that they run into. This is set in the 2030s, due to Nasa aiming its "Human flight to Mars" somewhere in that time period. Also, I decided to use the metric system for measurement (save for one instance), as that's what is used in science. But, regardless of "who gets there first", I only wish to be alive to witness the historical event of human's landing on Mars successfully.

* * *

_To set foot on the soil of the asteroids, to lift by hand a rock from the Moon, to observe Mars from a distance of several tens of kilometers, to land on its satellite or even on its surface, what can be more fantastic? From the moment of using rocket devices a new great era will begin in astronomy: the epoch of the more intensive study of the firmament._

_Konstantin E. Tsiolkovsky, Father of Russian Astronautics, 1896_

_

* * *

_

Thirty-six million miles.

That is how far the planet Mars will be on the planned launch date, five years from today. He'd done the math over and over in his head; written the equations on memo pads, scrawled in the corners of his meeting minutes, scribbled on napkins during coffee break. He'd dreamed of the red, iron-oxide planet for decades. To drag his fingers through the scorched red regolith, feel its weight in his hand. To see with his own eyes the dry, desert landscape sprawled before him, the rocky geological features so familiar yet so different to his own southwestern deserts back home.

But that was months away.

Now, standing before him was the huge Aerojet AJ26 rocket engine, with the anti-matter shuttle vehicle attached to it. Designed to travel over long distances, the anti-matter rocket would bring the group of astronauts, cosmonauts, scientists, medical professionals, and other experts to the planet in only 180 days, less than half the amount previously projected decades ago with the older, chemical rockets used before.

"It is finally happening."

America's train of thought broken, he released the breath he held and exhaled. A large, multi-seated vehicle was taking the group to the clean room, where the personnel there would help them put on their suits, making sure they were clean and orderly; checking, double checking, triple checking every cuff, seal, button and gear in sight.

_Twenty years. _

Two decades since the day he'd called Russia, on whim, to ask the million dollar question. The years since filled with hardships and research, training and negotiating… and now they were all together on launch day.

_Launch day._

"Yes." America could only say, utterly speechless at the sight of the beautiful piece of technological achievement standing before him, beyond the tiny glass window of the trundling vehicle. "It's finally happening."

Russia followed America's enchanted gaze, leaning across the isle to peer outside America's window. The two fell silent once more, ignoring the group discussions the others were having behind them, and continued staring at the rockets. Minutes passed, their destination inched closer, and Russia leaned across the distance between them, his lips a hair's breadth away from the shell of America's ear.

"Thank you for asking me."

America turned to face him, his ear brushing past Russia's mouth. A slow smile stretched across his face; he leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Thank you for saying yes."

* * *

_Twenty Years Ago…_

**Virginia, 2013**

Cool, humid Virginian air filled the clear night sky. The nearby forest stood still and silent, as if holding its breath. Crickets sung in the knee high meadow grass. America gazed through the low power lens of his Meade Saturn 60AZ-D reflecting telescope. Tony stood beside him, star chart and binoculars in hand.

"Seven point five degrees north of _Acubens_."

America pulled away from the main lens, switched to the smaller field of view lens to correct, and returned. Two seconds passed before a smile stretched across his sun-kissed face.

"There it is. Just outside of Cancer."His glasses clicked against the plastic as he pressed up against it, reaching over to tighten the telescope down to prevent it from moving. "Give me the high power lens."

Tony reached into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out a longer lens and setting it inside America's outstretched palm. America pulled away, unscrewed the lens and put the stronger one in place, handing Tony the previous one before tightening it down and readjusting the focus.

"…_There_." America sighed; breathlessly excited and silent in awe all at once. "I can see Phobos, but not Deimos."

"Currently behind the planet."

"Look how red it is." America murmured, stooping over to peer into the lens, hands pressed to his knees to steady himself. "The polar ice… _Planum Boreum_ is visible. And _Valles Marineris_! Four thousand kilometers long… two hundred kilometers across… if only I could see it with my own eyes instead of using machines." America pulled away and stretched, closing his eyes to imagine the magnificent sight of the largest canyon in the solar system. "It would make my grand canyon seem like tiny little scratch…only _Ithica Chasma_ would come close…but it could _still_ fit inside of it." Opening his eyes again, America turned to Tony. "Have you seen it?"

"Yes." Tony stated simply and plainly, sparing nothing for America's feelings on the matter."It's fucking weak to other canyons I've seen across the galaxy."

"Well _excuse me_." America rolled his eyes. "Not everyone has faster-than-light travel, _thank you very much_."

America returned to the high powered lens of the telescope. Silence stretched as he stared at the planet, a reddish dot in his field of view, Phobos a mere speck of light at its side. The sight, although weak compared to the detailed photographs taken by the various orbiters sent to the planet over the past several decades, still stirred a well of emotion deep within his chest; a boiling mixture of excitement, respect, and an awe inspiring giddyness that filled him to the brim and threatened to spill over.

"I want to go there."

"Fuck." Tony snorted. "This again."

"I mean it!" America pulled away. "I want to go there."

"You ask the president that every fucking year." Tony stared at him flatly. "And it's always the same answer. '_That's a great idea, but we can't afford it.'_"

"I haven't asked yet." He frowned at the alien. "Maybe it'll be different!"

"You think they're going to change their mind after saying the same thing for the past fifty years?" Tony grated his teeth together. "Fucking shit."

America glared at him, but remained silent, mulling over Tony's statement. "They agreed to the space station idea."

"Only after you told them about cooperating with the commie."*

"You mean _Russia_?"

"Whatever. He's as annoying as the fucking limey."

"You like Lithuania just fine, though." America rolled his eyes and returned his gaze back to the sky. "But it worked…didn't it?" Realization slowly dawned. "…Didn't… it?" He repeated again, mouth dropping open.

Tony narrowed his eyes at him.

"Fuck no, not again-"

"Where's my cell phone?" America dug through his pockets, pulling out his blackberry and pulling up the massive list of contacts. "It has to work. It _has_ to!"

_Russia is one of the only other nations that love's space as much as I do. He'll agree to it, he __**will**__!_

"The world economy is shit right now." Tony complained. "He'll never agree to it. The old farts-"

"You mean _congress_?" America shot him a dirty look before returning to the contact list and plugging Russia's human name in. "I'm going to call him. What's the time difference again?"

Tony heaved a pointed, exasperated sigh. "…Eight hours."

"That's what- ten o'clock his time?" America found his number and jabbed his finger at the send button. The dial tone picked up, ringing. "Come on…come on pick up!"

The dial tone ended, and Russia's automatic voice mail kicked in. Ending the call with a firm jab, he immediately redialed and waited. Voice mail came up again. America hung up and redialed again, and again, and again until –_finally_ – a gruff voice came through the speaker.

"Да."

America bit his tongue, forcing the complaint he had back down his throat. "Good morning to you too, Russia."

A pause; Russia sighed into the phone. "What do you want, Америка."

America opened his mouth…and then snapped it shut. How exactly was he going to say this?

"Ah-…I wanted to ask you about something."

He decided to cut past all the small talk and get right to asking him.

"...Да?" Guarded suspicion filled his voice. "Continue."

America bit his bottom lip, mulling over his question for the next three seconds before blurting it out.

"I want to go to Mar's with you."

"…_What_?" Russia asked, confusion filling his voice. "Mars?"

"I want to create a joint human space exploration team with you." America explained, matter-of-fact. "And I want to send them to Mars."

A long silence stretched on. Crickets chirped in the field surrounding America. A jet liner roared overhead, distantly.

"…Russia? You still there?"

Nervous tension filled his belly.

"Ah-…**Да**." Russia made a small, confused noise into the phone. "…you want to send humans to Mars."

"With you." America insisted. "It would be a joint operation."

"With me?"

"Yes." America pushed, excitement filling him. "Just think about it. We would plan the entire thing out between the RKA and NASA. Present it to our bosses and work out the financial stuff. Then once that's worked out, we can handpick the people we want to bring; then it's only a matter of training and getting all the stuff built and-"

"-You…have been thinking about this a lot." Surprise filled Russia's voice. "You really wish to do this? …Together?"

"I wouldn't ask anyone else." America boldly stated. "You're the only one who understands."

"I...yes." Russia agreed, his voice growing soft. "The others don't understand the…ah-…fascination. We have."

"So will you do it?" Hope filled America. "Will you go to Mars with me?"

Russia sighed into the phone as another long stretch of silence came. America stared at the tiny dot of light in the sky, a reddish-white hue hovering just outside of _Cancer_. To see that planet with his own eyes, the iron red horizon stretched out before him, the regolith beneath his feet, the massive canyons, _Olympus Mons_ standing before him in all her glory, the endless plains and deep craters all around him.

Tony smacked his arm, snapping him out of his dream-like daze. Russia spoke through the phone, his voice coming through the speaker.

"W-what?" America shook his head, shaking off the dream. "Sorry, say that again?"

Russia made an annoyed noise, something America heard a lot over the past century, and waited in silence. Russia's voice came back.

"Yes America. I will go with you to Mars."

* * *

_Two Years Later…_

**Capitol Building - Washington D.C., April 2015**

America sat in a tiny meeting room, just down the hall from the senate floor. Clutched in his hands was the plans for the Mar's mission he'd spent two years working on with Russia, with help from their respective space agencies. Having proposed the plans and bill to the committee assigned to him, the last three months were spent going through the mission page by page, hammering out every detail, every number, every date and time, and slowly creating the massive bill to be passed. Having stayed up into the early hours of the morning, putting the final details into the bill and getting only a few hours of sleep, America was finishing off his fourth cup of coffee when his phone beeped at him, signaling a text message. Extracting it from his pocket, he clicked the center button to display the message.

_Ivan – 7:02 am_

_Approved, but pending __**your**__ response. Announcement should come through official channels soon._

"Yes!"

America slammed a triumphant fist into the table. With this information, he could use it to push the senate into passing the bill. Hitting the reply button, he texted back, explaining he only had a few minutes before he went to the floor to present it. Nervous tension filled him at that thought; it'd been more than half a century since he actually presented a bill to congress… the last one being the bill that created NASA. He gathered the papers up once more, shuffling them on the table, making sure the edges were even, and stood.

A timid knock came at the door.

"Yes?" America called, his fingers tightening on the packet he held. "Come in."

The door opened, and a young female intern stepped in, looking fresh out of college. "It's time."

America swallowed, nodded and followed her out of the room. A small hallway appeared before him, various people of all ages filling it, some holding quiet discussions, others rushing by, walking at a fast pace. A young man nearly exploded out of a nearby door and ran down the hallway to him, carrying correspondence. Gasping for air, he shoved the paper at America, who took it and smiled.

"Aren't you going to read it?" The man panted, confusion filling him. "You'll want to read it-"

"Already know what it says." America responded cryptically. "But thanks for grabbing this."

The young man blinked at him, and watched America continue down the hall until he came to a set of double doors. The young woman turned to him, smiling. America sucked in a deep, calming breath and released it in a sigh.

"It'll be okay. They all know who you are so you can-"

"I _can't_ be 'myself'…" America grinned at her. "I need to be serious, so they can see how important this is to me… and to everyone at NASA and the RKA."

A moment passed, and the young woman stepped forward. "I…hope it gets passed." She smiled reassuringly. "I remember my mom and dad telling about the Moon landing…how they watched it on TV. I always hoped that I would be alive when we went to Mars…_if_ we went to Mars."

"Oh…don't worry." America returned the smile. "You will."

With that, he turned back to the door, sucked in another deep breath, and crossed the threshold, entering the massive room that stood beyond, the senate waiting for him.

* * *

**Outskirts of Moscow – May 2015**

Russia pulled away from the lens of his own telescope and rubbed at his eyes. The window of his room was thrown open, the curtains pulled aside, revealing the open grassy fields behind his home;before the window stood his telescope. Several sheets of lined paper stood stacked on the nearby end table at his bedside, filled with various notes and mathematical equations. Another stack of paper stood beside it, the detailed plans for the future mission.

One month had passed since he received the last text from America, who was still gathering votes for the bill he presented.

_It is taking too long_. Russia frowned, reaching the glass bottle of vodka, pouring the liquid into a shot glass. _It won't pass… I should not have been hopeful. _

Raising the glass to his lips, he poured the liquid down his throat, reveling in the slow burn that trailed all the way down. Breathing in a calming sigh, he poured another glass, put the cork back into the bottle tip and set it back on the table. Downing the next shot, he set the glass beside the bottle and returned to the telescope, pressing his right eye back to the lens. The reddish spot of light entered his field of view. Two tiny dots off to one side. It was so tantalizing, the lure of Mars. The burn of exploring and experimenting on its surface burned in his chest.

His phone beeped twice, vibrating once in his pocket. Pulling back with a sigh, he dug his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. America's human name burned on the screen.

_Alfred – 11:12pm_

_Passed. See you at the joint conference and signing._

Russia stared at the screen in disbelief for a long moment before clicking his phone shut and returning his gaze to the sky, where the reddish-white dot hung in the sky. The corners of his mouth curled upward in a relieved smile.

"Доскорого…"

_See you soon…_

_

* * *

_

**Extra Notes: **

**1. Mars = **Here's some basics on the planet. [Wiki] "Mars has approximately half the radius of Earth. It is less dense than Earth, having about 15% of Earth's volume and 11% of the mass. Its surface area is only slightly less than the total area of Earth's dry land. Based on orbital observations and the examination of the Martian meteorite collection, the surface of Mars appears to be composed primarily of basalt. Some evidence suggests that a portion of the Martian surface is more silica-rich than typical basalt, and may be similar to andesitic rocks on Earth; however, these observations may also be explained by silica glass. Much of the surface is deeply covered by finely grained iron(III) oxide dust. (…)The planet is named after the Romangod of war, Mars. It is often described as the "Red Planet", as the iron oxide prevalent on its surface gives it a reddish appearance.[13] Mars is a terrestrial planet with a thin atmosphere, having surface features reminiscent both of the impact craters of the Moon and the volcanoes, valleys, deserts, and polar ice caps of Earth. The rotational period and seasonal cycles of Mars are likewise similar to those of Earth. Mars is the site of Olympus Mons, the highest known mountain within the Solar System, and of VallesMarineris, the largest canyon. The smooth Borealis basin in the northern hemisphere covers 40% of the planet and may be a giant impact feature."

**2. Aerojet AJ26** = Quoted from an article at NASA's website (02/24/2010), "The AJ26 testing is part of NASA's new direction for space exploration. Under NASA's proposed fiscal year 2011 budget, NASA will work closer with commercial interests to develop space travel capabilities. The Aerojet AJ26 is a prime example of that new direction and of the immediate future of Stennis, which completed engine testing for remaining space shuttle flights last July. The AJ26 is the first new engine in years to be tested at Stennis and representative of the commercial work the facility now is pursuing. The center also provides RS-68 rocket engine testing for Pratt & Whitney Rocketdyne."

**3. Anti-Matter Rocket(s) **= Quoted from an article at NASA's website (04/14/2006), "Most self-respecting starships in science fiction stories use antimatter as fuel for a good reason – it's the most potent fuel known. While tons of chemical fuel are needed to propel a human mission to Mars, just tens of milligrams of antimatter will do (a milligram is about one-thousandth the weight of a piece of the original M&M candy)." Definitely an interesting article, if you find this stuff fascinating like me XD Also of note, Russia is currently researching a nuclear rocket engine that could potentially travel over long distances, such as the one theorized in the NASA article above.

**4. Planum Boreum**= The name for the Northern Polar Ice Cap on Mars.

**5. Valles Marineris**= The name for the massive canyon on Mars. [Wiki] "At more than 4,000 km long, 200 km wide and up to 7 km deep,[1][2] the VallesMarineris rift system is larger than any of Earth's largest canyons, and is the largest known canyon in the solar system."

**6. Ithica Chasma** = [Wiki] "…is a valley on Saturn's moon Tethys, named after the island of Ithaca, in Greece.[1] It is 100 km wide, 3 to 5 km deep and 2,000 km long, running approximately three-quarters of the way around Tethys' circumference."

**7. Russia & America Space Station Agreement** = [Wiki] "In June 1992 American president George H. W. Bush and Russian president Boris Yeltsin agreed to cooperate on space exploration. The resulting _Agreement between the United States of America and the Russian Federation Concerning Cooperation in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space for Peaceful Purposes_ called for a short, joint space programme, with one American astronaut deployed to the Russian space station _Mir_ and two Russian cosmonauts deployed to a Space Shuttle.[16]In September 1993, American Vice-President Al Gore, Jr., and Russian Prime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin announced plans for a new space station, which eventually became the International Space Station.[40] They also agreed, in preparation for this new project, that the United States would be heavily involved in the _Mir _programme as part of an agreement that later included Space Shuttle orbiters docking with _Mir_."

**8. Olympus Mons** = [Wiki] "…is a volcanic mountain on the planet Mars. It is a little under three times as tall as Mount Everest and is the tallest known volcano in the Solar System. (…) A shield volcano, similar in morphology to the large volcanoes making up the Hawaiian Islands. The edifice is about 600 km (373 miles) wide[4] and stands nearly 22 km (14 mi) above the surrounding plains[5] (a little over twice the height of Mauna Kea as measured from its base on the ocean floor)."


	2. Chapter 2

**Goodbye Blue Sky  
By:** Verin Mystal  
**Summary:** America and Russia work together on a ground-breaking project in space.**  
**

* * *

_The past is but the beginning of a beginning, and all that is and has been is but the twilight of the dawn. _

_H.G. Wells, "The Discovery of the Future," 1901_

* * *

**Johnson Space Center – Texas; March 2019 6:00am**

A massive box of stapled packets of paper stood at the end of the long table. Before America sat his stars and stripes cup of coffee, the remains of his breakfast burrito with the orange-yellow wrapper surrounding it, and the laptop connected to Skype, video conferencing with Russia. His pale face was vibrant and awake, serious concentration set in his piercing violet eyes and creases settling in around his eyes whenever his eyebrows pressed together. America by contrast looked haggard and barely conscious, his hair still damp from the shower, dark circles settling in under his tired eyes.

Six other people involved in the process of gathering applicants to the project sat at the table, pouring over each packet of paper, reading every line, double checking references and recommendations, career history and resumes on their own laptops.

"Alright…" He rubbed the bridge of his nose where Texas sat. "We've narrowed the pool down to about four hundred…sixty something applicants."

"We have four hundred fifty." Russia came through the speakers of America's laptop. "Half are from my own country, others from different countries and space agencies."

"Yeah we're around the same." America stifled a yawn and reached for his coffee. "We're in agreement on the different categories of who we're bringing?"

…_Astronauts and Cosmonauts, two each… microbiologist, ecologist, botanist, psychologist, mineralogist, paleontologist, volcanologist, doctors, engineers, planetary scientist, astrophysicist, expedition commander…_

"Да." Russia responded. "Twenty people. Evenly distributed from each of us."

_Ten from you, ten from me_. America thought. _Everything must be equal… _

Despite the progress made in the two space agencies coming together over the past several years, the past continued to loom over them, shadowing their every decision.

_I hate it._

America took a swig from his cup of coffee and pulled out the first massive stack of applicants from the box: the engineers. The next two hours were spent going through the stack with a fine-tooth comb, going over every detail with Russia and his people, debating and discussing their strengths and weaknesses, their career history and references, before setting them aside either for further review, or to be declined. After America finished his own stack, Russia pulled his own stack of applicants out, and the process repeated, until the pool was narrowed to ten people, five from each country. Setting those aside for further debate, the process continued with the next set of applicants, the doctors.

The next four hours was spent debating over every small detail, strength, weakness of every applicant. Finally a break was called, and America escaped to the coffee pot, where he poured his third cup of coffee for the day; clutching it in his hands, he returned to the empty room and found Russia still sitting before the webcam.

"So…" America started lamely. "The construction is on schedule on the component systems for the Aerojet."

"Good." Russia turned to the cam. "The anti-matter theory and research has been very…positive. With the extra help from your people, it should be slotted for beginning construction in the next five years."

America made a positive noise at the back of his throat. Silence filled the connection. Forcing a sigh back down his throat, he glanced to the two huge stacks of papers for the astronauts.

Somewhere in that stack was his very own application.

He knew it was in there, because he'd already been confronted by his boss about it, who had been notified when it was discovered, and just barely convinced him to keep it in there by reminding him of his _decade_-long hours of flight experience, having flown thousands of air craft, logged hundreds of thousands of flying hours, including participating in dozens of wars – _the two world wars especially_ – participated in astronaut training multiple times, including flying in several of the shuttle missions to the international space station. It _made sense_ to have him be a part of the team.

_Tell him._ He flexed his right hand before digging his nails into the palm of his hand. _Say something_.

He knew how much Russia loved astronomy, space exploration, and pretty much anything to do with the science of it…and he knew how much time and energy Russia was pouring into the project. A sliver of guilt filled him at the thought of possibly going into space without him. After all the work they put into it, cooperating together for a historical mission to Mars – one that would be talked about far into the future – was huge. Never before had they worked so closely together, communicating and pooling their resources, dividing the work, the finances, the man power into equal parts so both contributed equally. The budding trust that blossomed under the Mars project was now in danger of being shattered. America steeled himself and turned to the webcam embedded into the micro-thin laptop monitor, sucked in a breath and… held it as the other people filed back into the room, carrying small pack lunches.

Releasing the breath in a sigh, America rubbed the bridge of his nose and picked up the remains of the applicant pile for the doctor's.

"…finish this up and start on the microbiologists?"

* * *

**Oval Office, White House – Washington D.C., June 2019 **

"But- but you know I'm qualified for it!" America jumped up from his seat, mouth gaping in surprise. "I've been flying since the Wright Brothers!"

His boss leaned forward, resting an elbow on the edge of his table and pressing his cheek into his fist. Representatives from NASA stood nearby, shifting nervously in their seats.

Anger bubbled in America's chest. After convincing his boss to keep his application in the pool of other hopeful applicants, it was abruptly brought to the attention to the NASA project directors, and stamped with a red _denied_.

"I've flown tens of thousands of hours in every decade of the last century! I've participated in dozens of military missions- World War One, Two, Korea, Vietnam, The Cold War- I've flown for _three_ shuttle missions! **Three**!"

"Yes, Alfred." The president bit back a sigh, picking himself back up and threading his fingers together on the desk. "I understand, and I believe you would have no trouble fulfilling the vast requirements for this mission, but you have to understand where we are coming from. You are our _nation_, someone who represents us all, and plays a vital part in _politics_ and _foreign relations_-"

"Which is _exactly_ why I'm the best one for the job!" America interrupted, ignoring the pointed sigh coming from his boss. "Sure, the others won't know who I really am, but I'm a nation! Not only do I represent my country and people, but my body is also much more durable than a regular human body. I can't die, any injures I get heal in a day, I can concentrate with no problem while taking more than six g's of force, I know these systems for the new shuttle and components of the mission better than anyone else, since I helped _design_ them…" America gasped, his tirade slowing down at the looks he was getting from the others. "I'm the right person for the job. Take me on as the secondary Astronaut, so one of my citizens can be the lead."

The president finally wilted, and turned to glance at the NASA representatives. The group of older men peered at him for a moment, slowly glanced to America, then turned back to the president.

"Alright. Fine." The president shook his head. "But this is coming out of your vacation leave, understand?"

America nodded, completely willing to work without a day off for the rest of his life if he got the chance to go to Mars.

"If that's done, I have a meeting to attend to." The President stood, nodded to America and the group of men, and fled the room.

The eldest of the group stood and stepped closer to America, a smile slowly stretching across his face.

"Welcome to the team."

* * *

**Virginia – October 2019**

America slammed the pick-ax into the deep hole before him. The end of the pick-ax struck a large rock embedded in the ground, with a heave America gradually forced it from the earth. Sweat dripped down his brow as the summer sun beat down on him.

"I don't understand why you're so fucking worried about it." Tony snapped, clutching a white umbrella and holding it over his head. "Either tell him or not."

The pick-ax lost its grip and slid away from the rock, which fell back into the hole. America sighed and stepped away, setting the ax-head on the ground and leaning on the handle.

"I can't just call him up and tell him I'm on the team." America wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. "I…I have to at least tell him in person."

"Then tell him in person." Tony grumbled.

"I've got testing and training blocked in for the next _five years_. And that's not including the isolation chamber program I have to do at Russia's place."

"Then don't tell him." Tony glared at him. "Fuck, why is this so hard?"

"It's _not_ hard." America frowned and pretended to be interested in the apple tree sapling standing directly outside the hole. "It's just…"

_If he finds out I joined the team and didn't tell him right away… will I lose this newtrust we have?_ He tightened his grip on the shovel. _All the time we spent working together… cooperating in space and trying to overcome the past… _

America opened his mouth but, after a moment of silence, snapped it shut. Something tight welled within his chest and wedged itself beneath his ribcage. He stared at the apple tree sapling, unable to make eye contact with Tony.

_I don't want to lose this. Is that so much to ask? _A swell of anger filled his chest to the brim. _Can't we do one fucking thing without having the last fifty looming over our heads?_

Turning away, he stepped into the hole, grabbed the rock, and flung it into the grassy field surrounding them. Tony stood still with his arms crossed over his chest, the umbrella handle balanced between his arm and chest.

"I don't want to ruin this!" America railed, spinning around to face the alien. "We've worked too hard for something as stupid as me joining the team to stop everything! If I call him I'm screwed. If I fly over there to tell him in person, I'm _screwed_!"

"Then don't tell him." Tony rolled his head on his neck, popping the stiff joints with a sigh. "Fucking shit. I hate it when you get all emotional about the fucking commie."

America panted softly from his outburst and stepped out of the hole. Grabbing the apple sapling, he clutched the truck on one hand and tore the wooden crate away with the other. Setting it in the hole, he picked up a bag of top soil and dumped the contents in the hole, adding the native soil to the mix.

"I'm not '_fucking emotional'_." America grumbled and threw the shovel to the wheel barrel sitting nearby. "I'm _fucking stressed_."

"You're emotional." Tony insisted in a flat tone. "I went through sixty years of this bullshit. _I should know_."

"I was stressed then, too!" America exclaimed, picking up the pick-ax and adding to the wheel barrel. "I've been working on this project for _seven years_. Not to mention the huge cost and risks and-"

"Yeah, whatever." Tony turned and walked back to the house. "I'm fucking hungry."

Frowning, America pursed his lips and grabbed the handles to the wheel barrel, lifting it up and wheeling it towards the huge storage shed near his pool. Shifting the door open with his foot, he moved the wheel barrel inside, taking the tools out of the metal bin and setting them on their appropriate hooks on the wall. Darkness fill the inside of the shed, the open door only allowing a shaft of light inside. Taking advantage of his time alone, America pressed his back to the wall and slid to the floor. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them and let his head fall back with a sigh.

_If only things were like before… never worrying about what was fair and what the other was thinking and if there's ulterior motives… _

America closed his eyes and let memories of times long past fill him… of times when everything was simpler and more genuine between them.

_I remember being so…so __**happy**__ when he visited. It was always rare when he was allowed time off… and when he came we did so much together. Hunting and exploring… showing him my culture and things I'm proud of… laying in the wheat fields for hours and just __**talking**__._

A deep, burning stab of longing filled him.

_I miss him._

* * *

**Edward's Air Force Base - Antelope Valley, California; June 2024**

America drove north on state route 14, the Mojave Desert of the southwest surrounding his truck as he drove down the highway with his windows rolled down. The vast length of the SierraMountain's loomed in the distance; patches of clouds dotted the sky as the intense summer sun bore down on the world, the dry heat slamming him in the face like a blast furnace. Aviator sunglasses perched precariously on his nose, he sucked in a deep breath of air and accelerated the truck.

The last five years was a blur of hundreds of thousands of tests. Everything from his health, his physical ability, his psychology and personality mapping to training and testing for the mission ahead, learning the component systems of the Aerojet and its deadly accurate flight systems, learning all about Mar's itself and how it effects everything in their mission, from the descent to the surface and the ascent to dock with the orbiting Aerojet, memorizing every little detail of the mission down to the last second until he started dreaming about it.

The scientists and doctors were told of America's _true_ self, after gaining permission from his boss and having them sworn to secrecy, as all high government officials in every country go through when finding out about the _nations_. All of them were shocked to find out about him, and were soon confused about his strange immortality and super strength. America placated them as well as he could, answering the many questions they asked him and showing a small display of his strength when they doubted him. After their curiosity was satisfied, they swore to use his human identity only and to keep his true identity a secret.

He glanced to his black-berry for the twentieth time since he started driving from Los Angeles.

_If I call Russia now, I could tell him I'm a part of the crew before his people find out about it. If I call now, I could prevent a lot of backlash and keep Russia from getting upset. If I call now, I could just __**tell**__ him everything and…yeah he might yell at me a lot and get angry but…it would be the right thing to do. Right? __**Right**__?_

America clenched the steering wheel and stole another glance to the phone before turning back to the road. The small town of Edwards stood off in the distance, the image wavering from the waves of heat emanating from the ground.

_If I call now…I'll probably miss him. He's busy…yeah. I'll just… call him later._

He sighed and jabbed a finger at the radio, turning it on and getting a static filled classic rock station. The Who's _I Can See For Miles_ blared from the stereo.

_I know you've deceived me, now here's a surprise  
I know that you have cause there's magic in my eyes  
I can see for miles and miles-_

America stabbed a fist at the stereo, abruptly turning it off.

"I _know_ I need to tell him!" America yelled, uncaring if he was talking to himself, and floored the accelerator, pushing his truck to triple digit speeds. The town flew by in a blur and the Air Force Base drew closer.

Slowing down to the speed limit, America drove to the front gate and pulled his wallet out, giving the guards required identification before driving through. Parking the truck, he picked up his duffle bag and stepped inside the building, finding his temporary quarters, dumping his stuff on the bed and after making sure his dark, navy-blue flight suit was straight, complete with cloth name tag and the tiny stars and stripes sewn on, stepped inside the hanger. A group of men and women – all similarly dressed, save for the flags sewn onto their right upper arm – all stood near the massive opening to the hanger, chatting amongst each other. It was the crews first official 'gathering', and also the first time they meet their other crewmates.

America greeted them all one by one, smiling and soaking in their enthusiasm. Nearly all of them remarked on his _youth_, as he was physically a nineteen year old. Acting as if it were nothing, he sloughed it off to a strict upbringing and a passion for flying.

_Which is true… mostly._

A large hand clapped on his shoulder. A calloused, scarred, rough hand.

America's blood froze.

"Привет, _Alfred_."A voice that was both sweet and hard all at once exclaimed into his ear. "It surprises me to _find you here_, and _in a flight_ suit no less?"

He jerked his shoulder out from under his hand and whirled around. Russia stared at him with a deadly smile.

"Радa тебя видеть."

_Nice to see you._

* * *

**Extra Notes:**

**1. Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center =** [Wiki] "…is the National Aeronautics and Space Administration's center for human spaceflight training, research and flight control. The center consists of a complex of 100 buildings constructed on 1,620 acres (656 ha) in Houston.[1] Johnson Space Center is home to the United Statesastronaut corps and is responsible for training astronauts from both the U.S. and its international partners. It is often popularly referred to by its central function, "Mission Control"."

**2. Edward's Air Force Base =** [Wiki] "…Designated as the **Air Force Flight Test Center** (AFFTC), Edwards is home to the 412th Test Wing, the United States Air Force Test Pilot School, and NASA's Dryden Flight Research Center. It is operated and maintained by the 95th Air Base Wing as a part of the Air Force Materiel Command. Almost every United Statesmilitary aircraft since the 1950s has been at least partially tested at Edwards, and it has been the site of many aviation breakthroughs (…) Notable occurrences at Edwards include Chuck Yeager's flight that broke the sound barrier in the Bell X-1, test flights of the North American X-15, the first landings of the Space Shuttle, and the 1986 around-the-world flight of the Rutan Voyager. The base is one of the largest purchasers of renewable energy in the nation, deriving 60 percent of its electricity from renewable sources, and is a lead partner in the United States Environmental Protection Agency's Green Power Partnership."

**3. California State Route 14** = [Wiki] "…is a north–south state highway in the U.S. state of California, largely in the Mojave Desert. The southern portion of highway, is signed as the **Antelope Valley Freeway**. (…)The northern portion, from Vincent (south of Palmdale), to Route 395, is legislatively named the Aerospace Highway, as the highway serves Edwards Air Force Base, one of the primary landing strips for NASA's Space Shuttle. This section is rural, following the line between the hot Mojave desert and the forming Sierra Nevada mountain range."

**4. Mojave Desert = **[Wiki] "…occupies a significant portion of southeastern California and smaller parts of central California, southern Nevada, southwestern Utah and northwestern Arizona, in the United States. Named after the Mohave tribe of Native Americans, it displays typical Basin and Range topography."

**5. Sierra Nevada Mountain Range = **[Wiki] "…is a mountain range in the U.S. states of California and Nevada, between the California Central Valley and the Basin and Range Province. The Sierra runs 400 miles (640 km) north-to-south, and is approximately 70 miles (110 km) across east-to-west. Notable Sierra features include Lake Tahoe, the largest alpine lake in North America; Mount Whitney at 14,505 feet (4,421 m),[2] the highest point in the contiguous United States; and Yosemite Valley sculpted by glaciers out of 100-million-year-old granite. The Sierra is home to three parks, 20 wilderness areas, and two national monuments. These areas include Yosemite, Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks."

**6. Mars Isolation Experiment/Mars500 Project**= [space(dot)com] (June 3, 2010) "…Scientists in Russia launched an ambitious Mars spaceflight simulation Thursday – one that will lock six volunteers away for a record-setting 520 days to practice every step of a mission to the red planet without ever leaving Mars500 project, a joint experiment by Russia, the European Space Agency and China, began at 5:49 a.m. EDT (0949 GMT) as the hatches to the mock Mars spaceship were shut at Russia's Institute for Biomedical Problems (IBMP) in Moscow. Three Russians, two Europeans and one Chinese volunteer make up the experiment's six-man crew. (…)The Mars simulation is expected to last until November 2011, with the crew relying on supplies of food, equipment and other essentials packed inside their mock spaceship. Only electricity, water and some air will be supplied from the outside, ESA officials said."


	3. Chapter 3

**Goodbye Blue Sky  
By:** VerinMystal  
**Summary:** America and Russia work together on a ground-breaking project in space.

* * *

_Lost in the milky way,__  
__Smile at the empty sky__  
__And wait for the moment__  
__When a million chances may all collide._

_The Lightning Seeds, "The Life of Reilly"_

* * *

"Ivan!"

America gaped open mouthed at Russia. Nervous tension filled his chest, welling into a tight ball and wedging itself just beneath his ribs.

Russia narrowed his darkening violet eyes at him. "Why are you wearing the flight suit, Alfred?"

"I was going to tell you!" America gasped, the words coming out in a rush. "I was just so busy with everything and every time I was going to call-"

"Tell me _what_?" Russia said with a flash of teeth, his voice lowering from rising anger.

America met Russia's angry glare and sighed. _This…is nothing but my own fault. If only I had told him earlier… _

"I joined the team." The weight on America's shoulders didn't fade. "I convinced them that…I would be a great addition."

Russia glared at him, burning holes into America's forehead. "You joined as the first choice for the astronauts?"

"No!" America shouted. "I didn't-…uh…"

The group of people all stared at them. America swallowed, grabbed Russia's hand and pulled him to the locker rooms. Pushing Russia into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him, America stood at the doorway and shuffled his feet awkwardly. Russia stood in the center of the locker room, crossed his arms over his chest and seethed with anger.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I already _told_ you-"

"_No_." Russia ground the heel of his boot into the tile floor. "Why did you say _nothing_? Why did you _not pick up the phone_?"

"I…I-"

"This was nothing but an empty promise, was it?"

…_What?_

America stepped forward, suddenly clear headed. "What are you trying to say?"

"Even now, you still do not trust me?"

"No!" Realization struck America squarely in the chest. _Does he think I did this on purpose? That…that I didn't trust him to pull through and fulfill his end of the joint agreement for this mission? All because of our __**past**__?_ "That's not it-!"

"Then why have you done **nothing** but _lie to me_ for the past decade!" Russia growled, his voice reverberating off the walls. "All of the times we met, all of the times we talked over the phone, and not _once_ did you tell me!"

"I was going to but-!"

Russia whipped his cell phone out, speed-dialed a number and immediately launched into a conversation.

America stepped forward, eyes widening. "Wait- what are you doing?"

Ten seconds later, Russia snapped the phone shut and stuffed it back into his pocket. "I suppose it is good this happened now than when the mission was still in the pre-flight stages."

"What are you saying?" America glared at him. "What did you just do?"

"I cancelled this meeting, and I am going to pull out of this mission."

"You can't do that!" America accused.

Russia raised an eyebrow in defiance, turned on his heel and left the locker rooms, walking with stiff, jerky strides down the hall, through the double doors and outside into the parking lot. America followed after him, eyes blazing in anger.

"We had an agreement!" America insisted, shoving the doors open as he followed Russia outside. "We _signed_ on it!"

"How can we go all the way to Mars, when you cannot trust me enough to tell me about something as small as this?" Russia whirled around and motioned at America's flight suit. "If you are afraid of telling me about this, because of what happened in the past…I am not sure I can go to Mars-"

"I _was_ afraid of telling you – but only because I was afraid of losing _what we had_!" America exclaimed, desperation filtering into his voice. "After we agreed to do this, and all of the planning, communication, working together on the different projects… we had that _trust_ again."

Russia grew still - stewing in deep thought - while the hot, desert wind ruffled his clothes and platinum blonde hair.

"For the first time…it felt like…" America struggled to find the right words, his cheeks burning more from embarrassment than the summer heat. "It felt like…how it did before the Great War- before the 20th century, before we _hated_ each other. I didn't want to lose that… so I didn't say anything."

Russia stared at him. The seconds ticked by, a deafening silence stretched between them. America forced himself to meet Russia's piercing gaze despite the trembling in his chest.

"What we _had_…" Russia repeated, his voice soft. "…Will never come back."

America's heart dropped into his gut. The world fell out of focus, the noises of the jets roaring overhead grew muffled and the cars from the highway turned silent.

"I cannot pretend the 20th century never happened." Russia's lips pressed into a firm line. "I am happy that we collaborated on this…that we trusted each other enough to do something like this… but you lying to me about being on the team…lying to me for _ten years-_"

"I didn't _mean_ to do it!" America lunged forward and fisted his hands into Russia's shirt. "I didn't lie to you _intentionally_! I just- I was-"

Russia pried America's hands from his shirt, turned away and started walking to his car.

"Don't you turn your back on me!" America demanded, his voice growing sharp with desperation as he stormed after Russia's hulking figure. "I'm not finished talking to you!"

"Well I _am_ finished talking to you." Russia's voice trembled with emotion. "There is nothing more to say. You lied to me because you were _afraid_. Not because of trust."

"Yeah, because I was afraid of losing _what we had_-!"

"And I am telling you, that what we had _will never come back_." Russia growled, eyes blazing. "We are _not_ friends anymore."

"That's not true. It _can_ come back!" America insisted, heart breaking. "If you just give it a chance-!"

"I have already given it a _chance_." Russia accused harshly. "And it didn't _work_."

Before America could respond, Russia turned and stalked to his rented car, jammed the keys into the lock and tore the door open. Throwing his things to the passenger seat, he sat down with a huff and fumbled for the ignition key.

"Hey! You better not be leaving!" America demanded, anger mixing with his guilt. "I told you I'm done talking to you yet!"

"I don't care." Russia found the key and jammed it into the ignition, turning the car on. "I'm going home."

"I swear to god, if you put your foot on that gas petal I will rip the entire engine out of this car." America threatened, growing desperate. "You _know_ I can do it."

Russia glared at the dashboard, violet eyes blazing. "Now you're threatening me?"

"Because you won't _fucking listen_!" America clenched the door frame and positioned himself in-between the door and Russia. "Friendships can't always be perfect! There's always up's and downs! Like Japan and I, we went through a lot of shit last century – we even _hated_ each other at one point! But we still retained our friendship even after everything that happened. We're still _friends_."

A dry chuckle escaped Russia's lips. "You and I are _not_ friend's, America."

"What was the last twenty years then?" America questioned, leaning closer to him. "What was-"

"Tell me then." Russia clenched the steering wheel. "Did what you and England had before your revolution ever come back?"

"I…" America pulled away, the force of the question hitting him squarely in the chest. "That has **nothing** to do with this."

"Does it?" Russia questioned. "You two used to trust each other, you were friends, almost brothers…and then you hated each other, fought each other, cursed each other. And what you two had before the war was _gone_. Even now, it still shadows everything you do together, doesn't it?"

"But it doesn't stop us from collaborating and working together on things." America insisted. "Yes, the last century was dark and we hated each other- _I know_ what happened! But just because it _happened_ shouldn't stop us from doing this!" America waved his hand at the massive landing strip behind them, the early model aerojet standing in the center. "This is _special_! We're not going to the space station, we're not going to the Moon, we're going to **Mars**! Something that has _never_ been done before!" America stepped closer to Russia. "I could've asked the CSA, ESA, Japan or even _China_…I could've asked for their help and collaboration in this. But as much as I love my brother and those in Europe…The only one I could see going to Mars with me is **you**."

Russia stared at America, surprise filtering into his gaze. America continued, taking another step forward and reaching down to grasp Russia's left shoulder.

"I want you to come with me, because… it wouldn't feel _right_ leaving you behind." America's chest tightened as the muscles in his gut trembled with nervous embarrassment. "When I go to Mar's and step outside for the first time…I want you to be standing beside me."

"You really…feel that strongly?" Russia asked, wide violet eyes search America's blushing face.

"If you don't go…I won't go." America swallowed as a flash of pain crossed his face. "I'll quit the team."

Genuine shock filled Russia. America breathed and tried willing the darkening blush from his face with no success.

"You would really quit…for me?" Russia asked, voice breathless.

"Yes." America let his hand fall away and turned his stare to the ground, unable to hold Russia's gaze anymore. "I would. I'd call right now and do it."

A moment of silence passed before Russia pulled his phone out and dialed a number. Bringing it up to his ear, he spoke into the phone for a long, the voice on the other end sounding annoyed with frustration. The conversation finally ended, and Russia snapped the phone shut and pocketed it. America leaned against the opposite car and stared at the ground, his face still crimson. A cool hand touched his cheek, and America jerked away in surprise, turned his face back to Russia's who had stood up from his seat in the car. Russia, seeing America's reaction, retracted his hand, a flash of disappointment cross his face before disappearing.

"Things will go forward as planned. I will…talk to my boss and those in charge of this project about…joining as the second string cosmonaut."

A sigh of relief escaped from America. Smiling awkwardly, America stepped away, further distancing himself from Russia, and motioned back to the double doors of the facility.

"Then…we should go back and assure the team that everything is okay."

Russia glanced at the distance between him and America before turning to meet the other nations gaze.

"Yes. Let's go back."

* * *

**Virginia – September 2024**

America sat on the porch swing, the warm setting sun filtered through the oak tree to splash across his face, chest and arms. Curling one leg underneath him, he let the other leg hang freely to wave it forward and back, causing the swing to gently rock with the cool breeze. Clutched in his hands was a hand written letter, explaining the change in the second string cosmonauts. Relief surged through him at the thought.

_Ivan won't be left behind. He'll be coming with me to Mars. __**Mars**__._

Letting the letter fall to his lap, he let a smile grace his face as his eyes slid shut. Head falling back, he slouched into the porch swing and thought of the future training sessions he'd have to do with the Russian. The hours they'd spend in that pool with the simulated zero gravity, the classes they'd take going over every tiny detail of the procedures and software systems involved, the countless dinners the team would attend…all that extra time to be in each other's company.

_A chance to make up the time we lost._

America stopped the swinging motion with his hanging foot and opened his eyes. Tony stood before him, arm's crossed, glare firmly in place. A minute of silence passed before America sat up.

"What?" He asked, confused. "What are you glaring at me for?"

"That look is back."

"…_What_ look?" A wave of self-consciousness filled him. "What are you talking about?"

Tony sighed, shook his head and walked back inside the house. "Forget I said anything."

"No!" America jumped up and followed him inside. "What do you mean? What look do I have?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not!" America insisted. "Just tell me!" He reached for Tony's shoulder. "What is it?"

Tony stopped and turned around. "You had that look before."

"Look?" America questioned. "The…expression I had outside?"

"Something like that." Tony shifted from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable with the current topic. "Fuck."

"When did I have this…look?" America smiled. "Just tell me."

"Back when the commie visited you for the first time after his fall." Tony admitted. "Both of you sat outside and watched the stars. And you had that same look on your face." Tony shrugged America's arm off. "Can I fucking go now? Shit!"

America let him go, knowing the alien got into a foul mood when flustered. Stepping back, he returned to the porch swing outside and picked up the letter, peering at Russia's handwriting.

_You and I are not friend's, America…is what he'd said. He didn't seem…angry about that. _

Folding the letter back up, he set it to the empty area beside him.

_It almost seemed…like he was telling me that…_

Eyes widening, America stood up and paced from one end of the porch to the other.

_He couldn't have…he wasn't…was he? Fuck what if he was!_

Biting his lip, he planted his hands on his hips and glanced at the letter. An elated wave of nervous realization flooded his chest and filled his body.

_We can't have what we had before…because now…we're more than friends. _

…_Right?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Goodbye Blue Sky  
By: **Verin Mystal  
**Summary: **America and Russia work together on a ground-breaking project in space.

* * *

"_Taking a new step...is what people fear most."_

_Dostoyevski_

* * *

**Western Russia - January 2027**

After three solid years of training, the time for the practice run of their mission had come. An exact replica of their ship and the base on Mars – which had been sent ahead to land and, with the help of a computer, prepare the green house and their oxygen source for their arrival – was built in Russia. The building was wired with tiny, pin-hole cameras and microphones, so that almost every room and hallway was bugged with surveillance. The purpose of the practice mission and isolation experiment was to test the crew to see how they got along with each other, as once they left for Mars, the group would be on their own, with little help from Earth and those in control of the mission.

The food, water, electricity…everything was fully stocked with the exact same materials as the ship. The same science experiments, the same daily duties would be performed as if it were really happening. The crew was briefed and entered the isolation chambers where their replica ship was situated. The only light source came from the ship, as the inside of the chamber was pitch black, save for various specks of light and the intense light of the _fake_ sun. Inside the ship were the crews quarters, situated along the central corridor like tiny closets. Inside each room were two beds, a storage area underneath for clothing and other personal supplies, a light on the wall, and an area for the crew's laptops. Bigger rooms were situated on either side of the corridor, one room for storage, another the medical bay, varied laboratories with various equipment and computers specialized for a crew member's area, such as biology or geology. Two phone booth-sized bathrooms were to serve the crew of twenty-five, one for women, the other for men. In the rear of the space craft were the propulsion systems, fuel tanks, and the massive computers used for flight and navigation. Storage closets holding extra gear were placed in-between rooms, and a large walk-in freezer held their food and medicine.

The group still did not know of America and Russia's true identity, but being together alone for the year-long period…both knew it might only be a matter of time.

The first thing America did when he was alone, was to use his personal radio-headset to find out which rooms were bugged, and which weren't. The process came very easy to him, as he had some fifty-odd years of experience in searching for hidden cameras and recorders planted by Russia.

_I'll bet Russia is doing the same thing._

Making it look like he was having problems with his head-set, America adjusted the radio frequency and walked through his tiny room he shared with the other astronaut. A electric "_tzzk_" came through the speakers on his headset, and America instantly knew the room held cameras and voice recorders.

_Damn, no privacy even when you sleep?_

Returning the frequency back to normal, he left the room and took a casual stroll throughout the ship, checking the halls and finding cameras and voice recorders every five feet or so. The same came with the medical bay, the various laboratories, the freezer and dining areas, the cockpit of the ship and the rear maintenance rooms. The only areas that didn't have cameras or recorders were the two bathrooms.

_Damn, they've got this place wired like a Christmas tree…_

Checking his watch, he found he only had a few minutes before his shift in the cockpit. Giving one last _fake_ adjustment to his headset to cover up his actions, he started down the long corridor to the front of the ship. A large hatchway opened up, and the cockpit spread out before him. The room was oddly cone shaped, the room starting out wide and round, and then narrowing to a rounded point at the front. It was obvious the design of the ship intended it to return to earth via landing strip. Four chairs filled the room, two facing opposite each other on the left and right walls, navigational computers on one side and local systems showing the ships sensors on the other. The two remaining chairs faced the front, where a wide windshield of thick clear material spread across. It obviously wasn't glass, as there was no way it could stand up to the super-heated temperatures of re-entry.

Russia sat on the right chair, his form looking relaxed as it reclined back against the chair, book in hand. America took a seat beside him with a long sigh to announce his presence. Russia made no motion to notice him.

_Why won't he speak to me? Or even make eye contact with me, for that matter. Things seemed to be warming up between us ever since he was able to get onto the team…but now he's acting like this old self._ America frowned, and pulled his feet up into the chair, pressing his knees to his chest. The air was cool and stale tasting, despite the efforts by the botanist to grow a few plants to freshen the air. He shivered, and found himself already missing the warm, humid summers of his southern lands.

_No. I can't think about that…it won't help. This is going to be your home for the next several years so get used to it._

Fake stars shone steadily through the clear windshield-shaped window. America glanced at Russia, who was still reading. The title printed on the front cover was in Russian Cyrillic, something America failed to learn how to read.

_I want to talk to him but…these damn cameras! If only there was a way to speak to him without the others knowing-_ Realization dawned, and America reached forward to grasp a small, portable white-board and dry erase marker. They were used instead of paper, as they generated no waste. Uncapping the marker, America started writing in an old code used in the first Great War.

_**We need to talk. You've been avoiding me. **_

_Only a historian specializing in secret codes would know this…_ America finished his message and gave the small board to Russia, who took it.

_**I am avoiding you because the crew will begin to notice.**_ Russia wrote back. _**They will begin to see the differences in speech, mannerisms, old slang we used before that might slip out before we can catch ourselves.**_

_**I know, and I wish we could just tell them. **_America wrote back. _**It doesn't make any sense to keep this a secret. We never kept ourselves a secret during war-time with our fellow soldiers.**_

_**This is different.**_ Russia insisted. _**We are not going to fight in a war on Earth. We're going to Mars for scientific, educational purposes.**_

_**But we can't keep this a secret forever. They'll recognize that we're not human regardless of our covering up. **_America frowned at him. _**Our own citizens will notice first. And then the others eventually recognize that we're "different".**_

_**If you tell them who we are, then our role in this mission will be over. **_Russia glared at him. _**I did not dedicate several years' worth of training only to have it ruined by you.**_

America huffed an annoyed sigh and flung the whiteboard at the floor. He turned away, frustrated that he couldn't just speak to him regularly, annoyed that he had to keep himself a secret… irritated that Russia was acting so cold to him.

_The others are warming up to each other. The biologist and geologist actually seem to be attracted to each other…what are their names again - Jamie and Eliza? – yeah. That's it./i _America sighed again, and stared at the stars, wishing they were real so he could find the constellations. The sound of a body shifting came to America's ears. The white board was picked up, along with the marker and its cap. A squeaking filled the air, and after a moment, the white board re-entered his hands.

America didn't look at it right away, trying to resist the temptation. _Serves him right._ But soon the feeling grew too much, and America pulled the board up to read it.

_**Meet me later tonight, when most of the crew is asleep, in the bathroom.**_

Something fluttered in America chest, and he glanced at Russia, nodding. Russia nodded in return, picked up his book and resumed reading. America forced the giddy feeling back down, wiped the white-board clean, and returned it to its rightful spot.

* * *

The remaining hours of the "day" was spent in a state of heightened anticipation. He went about fulfilling his duties just fine, but his mind was elsewhere. His fellow astronaut picked up on it, and finally confronted him about it when he was in the back maintenance rooms, checking on the engines and other cooling systems.

"What's wrong?" The astronaut – _John, born in California but raised in Florida, originally a fighter pilot before going to NASA, single and highly dedicated _– asked him.

"Ah-…its nothing. Just distracted." America reasoned with a smile. "Got a lot of stuff on my mind, that's all."

John made a sound of acknowledgement in his throat and glance at the fuel sensors America was staring at. "Everything seems to be running okay." He shifted from one foot to the other, seeming anxious about something. America recognized this as "I-want-to-ask-you-something-but-I'm-afraid-to-bring-it-up" look. The man grew still, seeming to steel himself and turned to face America. "Say…how old are you?"

_I knew it._ America thought dryly, and turned to face him.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I just-…you seem really young." John admitted, his voice growing tight with accusation. "I knew other astronauts who've been in for more than a decade…and they've never seen you before."

_Is he…angry at me?_ America thought with suspicion. _I've got to stop this. __**They're**__ probably watching this right now, waiting to see my reaction and how I deal with this. It's a test, and I've got to handle this the right way. _

"Do you really think they'd let someone who isn't qualified go on this mission?" America asked, trying to appeal to his sense of logic. "Only the most qualified people were selected."

"But you are so young… "John continued to frown, still unconvinced. "I have two younger brothers, and you look like your only twenty-one."

America chuckled. "Well, I'm older than that." _Try somewhere around 400._ "Don't worry about it. All of us went through vigorous background checks and testing. If I was too young, I never would have made it so far."

John nodded, eyes still narrowed with uncertainty.

"Looks like everything is good here, I'm gonna go back to the cockpit." America nodded in farewell and left.

John glared after him, still frowning deeply with suspicion.

* * *

America lay in his bed, facing the wall. John lay in the opposite bed, snoring softly.

Bringing his wristwatch up to his ear, he clicked a button on the side and a dull green glow appeared, lighting up the clock face.

_Only ten more minutes…maybe I should go now?_

America clicked the button, plunging the room back into darkness once more.

_I can't go now, it'll only take me two minutes to get there._ He sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest. _We've gotta talk about… I gotta tell him…_ Heat filled his cheeks. America cursed himself inwardly. _If he was trying to tell me about how he feels when we fought, with that "we're not friends anymore"…then…I gotta try and tell him. I can't let this slide anymore! Every time I tried saying something, training always got in the way. _American nodded with conviction, as if he were trying to reassure himself. _I can't back out of this now_.

The time finally came. America slid out of bed and stepped out of the room, closing the hatch-like door behind him as quietly as possible. Before leaving, America made sure to make his bed lumpy, so it might look like he burrowed underneath his covers. Starting down the hall, he wore only a white shirt with his baggy, navy-blue work pants he wore day in and day out. Bare feet padding against the cold metal floor, he turned a corner and finally came to the bathroom. Swallowing, he stared at it and found it already occupied.

_Is he already in there?_ America decided to knock anyway. A moment passed, and the lock to the door click open. _It's him._

Grasping the door handle, America swung the hatch open and found Russia sitting on a stool in the far corner of the bathroom. Shutting the door behind himself, America locked it and took a seat on the edge of the steel sink.

"They can't hear us in here." Russia whispered. "But you still must keep your voice down. The other bugs might pick us up."

America nodded as his chest tightened with anticipation. _I can't back out of this now. I've got to tell him!_

"Now…I believe there is something you wish to tell me?" Russia continued in a soft, quiet voice. "Something that you couldn't say before."

America nodded, and struggled to keep blood from filling his face. "Yeah-...I've been meaning to tell you this for a while but…"

His throat closed up and his mind turned into a black slate. The words America spent all day preparing for were suddenly gone. America grasped the steel sink and tried to keep his strength in check. The last thing he needed was the crew asking questions about why the solid _steel_ sink held finger indentations.

"…And?" Russia urged.

"-but… all of that damn training we had to do kept getting in the way." America blurted out. "So…so…" _Damnit, why is this so hard!_ "So I-"

Russia stood up from his stool abruptly. America stared at him, mouth parted slightly.

"You wished to tell me something?" Russia closed the distance between them, their bodies now only an inch or two apart.

"Ah-…yeah." America felt his control slip away as heat filled his cheeks. _Damn!_

Russia stared at him, the corners of his mouth tugging upward ever so slightly as he took in the redness of his face. America dropped his eyes, unable to hold Russia's piercing violet gaze no longer.

"I…" _Just blurt it out! _"I…like you a lot." America finally managed, the words coming out strangled and quiet. "For a long time… I just… I was afraid of…" His body relaxed slightly as the words finally came out into the open. "I…I wanted to do this whole project for science, but also…because…" His cheeks felt as if they were on fire now, and he was sure the blush was now moving out to his ears and down his neck. "…because-"

Fingers pressed against his mouth. America fell silent and looked up, finding Russia's hands sliding away and cradling his face. The cool touch felt electric against his super-heated skin.

"Good." Russia said, mouth quirking upward at one side. "I was wondering when you might come around."

America stared, wide eyed. "You…you _knew_?"

"It…was not so hard to figure out." Russia supplied. "I have…a certain practice with these things. And a history with France- but then again, you do as well." Russia admitted, seeming to forget America was sitting right before him. "It seems England left more of an influence on you."

"…And what's _that_ supposed to mean?" America grew indignant. "You better not be-"

"I am sorry." Russia interrupted softly. "I…have a history, but…I don't have much practice at this." Russia admitted awkwardly, his voice growing quiet. "But…I feel the same."

America stared at him and said nothing.

"…for a long time, also." Russia whispered. "Probably…longer than you." Russia's hands fell to America's shoulders, a slight shade of pink dusting his cheeks. "Maybe."

The two remained silent for a long while, both standing right before one other, while trying not to look at each other at the same time. America finally turned his eyes upward to stare at Russia's face. Eyes turned away, pink dusting his pale cheeks, platinum blond hair ruffled from lying in bed. America reached forward and circled his hands around Russia's waist, drawing him flush against America's chest. Russia made a small noise at the back of his throat, but America made no motion of noticing it, choosing instead to wrap his arms around him and draw him into a tight hug. After a moment, Russia returned the gesture, his long arms and large hands awkwardly wrapping around him, the motion hesitating and almost shy.

The two stood like that for a long moment, both simply feeling the other flush against themselves.

Finally, America pulled away and with a single, confident movement pressed his lips to Russia's in a chaste kiss. Russia's body grew still with surprise, but after a second, relaxed. America pulled away, but Russia followed him, pressing their lips together in another kiss. America sighed, relaxing against Russia and parted his mouth, deepening the kiss into something _more_. Arms curled around each other, hands moved over shoulders and across backs, seeking large expanses of skin to touch and feel against the hardened calluses of their fingers. Their tongues tangling together, heated gasps of air mingling between their parted mouths, the two continued the kiss as it slowly grew more intimate and deep, both opening up to each other after years of hiding that part of themselves away.

Russia's hands finally slid under America's shirt and curled around his naked waist. America pulled away, breaking the kiss to stare at him. Their lips were both swollen and red from the activity. Dropping his eyes, America opened his legs and curled them around Russia's waist, drawing his closer than ever, until the two were pressed flush against one another, both hot and aching for the other. Russia made a soft noise at the back of his throat and moved to kiss America once more.

* * *

The next few months went quickly for America. With things finally cleared between the two nations, America felt he could finally relax and enjoy the mission for what it really was, a scientific expedition into the great unknown. The crew grew closer and more friendly as time passed…except for his fellow astronaut, John. The man continued to treat him with suspicion and narrowed glances. America tried to keep things friendly between them, but it only seemed to make the man dislike him more. The others were finally beginning to notice the strained relationship between them and tried to inform John, as carefully as possible, that yes, _Alfred_ is quite young looking, but he never would've been chosen if he wasn't qualified. This only made things worse between them, much to the crew's psychologist.

"He is obsessing over this one aspect of you." The Russian man, Viktor, admitted to America one late afternoon in his office. "If this keeps going, things will only get worse."

"Have you tried talking to him?" America asked. "Maybe he'll listen to you."

"I have tried." Viktor explained. "But he took it badly and left. Do not try talking to him anymore. Give him time to think about what we have said and, in time, he will come to you."

"Hmm…okay." America nodded. "That makes sense."

Viktor nodded in return and went back to his laptop. America stood and went to leave, when Viktor called his attention once more.

"Ah- one more thing Alfred."

America turned around to glance back at him.

"It is good your…_relationship_ with Ivan has improved."

Heat flooded America's cheeks. "I- well…yeah."

"I am required to say that…make sure it does not interfere with your duties." Viktor stated. "Everything is second to the mission. I am sure you understand this."

"Right." America nodded firmly. "I understand."

The man nodded and went back to his work. America fled the room, cheeks burning crimson.

* * *

"…-and he's been angry at me about this for a while now." America explained to Russia after a late night _tryst_. "I finally went to see Viktor about it and he said to just leave him alone."

"Hmm." Russia hummed in agreement. "If he wishes to speak to you, he will come to you."

The two lay on the tile floor in varied states of undress, their back's supported by the clear, plastic wall of the shower. America sat beside Russia and burrowed into his side, while Russia kept an arm wrapped around him and provided his shoulder as a make-shift pillow.

"I just hate this waiting." America admitted with a frustrated sigh. "I want to talk to him and get it all out in the open."

"You are so very impatient." Russia stated with a smirk. "I am surprised you waited to long to tell me of your feelings."

"That's different." America shot back hotly, pink dusting his cheeks.

Russia only hummed a vague response and rested his head atop America's, rubbing his cheek and nose in his wheat-colored locks.

"I just hope this doesn't…go badly. You know the _others_ are watching this entire thing unfold and are waiting to see how everyone reacts."

Russia tightened his hold around America's waist. "Listen to Viktor. He is the authority on situations like this."

"I know." America grumbled. "But…that doesn't mean I have to like it."

* * *

Weeks passed and John never came to America. The same tension remained static between them. Viktor kept firm on his original advice, explaining to him that John will come to him when he is ready. America disagreed, but since he was the crew's psychologist and temporary counselor, listened and followed his direction. He continued his duties, the same thing, day in and day out. The date of their arrival to "Mars" was inching closer, originally half a year away, and then a few months, and now weeks. Activity was ramping up as the crew "prepared" the ship and their small lander for arrival. Tests, supplies, activities, data…it all had to be recompiled and prepared for arrival.

It was during one busy morning that the crew gathered to take a look at the lander for the first time. The mission commander wished the crew become familiar with the lander and all of its systems.

"Hmm…Alfred, it seems the medical emergency bag is missing. Go to the medical bay and get one I prepared?" The doctor, a middle-aged man with a slight german accent, asked. "Should be in the back of the room at the far right compartment."

"Sure thing."

America left and started down the corridor, dog tags jingling slightly as he walked a steady, fast pace. After a moment, the medical bay doors appeared and America pushed the hatches open, revealing a large room complete with four beds, an operating table, a cleaning station and dozens of electronic equipment. As America walked to the back of the room, he noticed a box of medical instruments ripped open on the floor. Frowning, he paused in his search for the medical bag and stepped closer to the box. Inside were smaller plastic bags full of sharp, surgical instruments. One bag of scalpels was ripped open.

"What…?" America reached for the bag, touching the one torn corner. "No way the Doc could've left it like this-"

There was a pinching sensation at his neck, burning heat appeared, and then something was yanked back. He tried breathing, and got a wet, paining sucking sensation back. Reaching up, he touched his neck. His hand came away soaked with blood.

_What?_

Falling to his knees, he managed to turn around before collapsing to the floor. John stood over him, bloodied scalpel in hand.

"you're a fake, a government favorite. There were men even more qualified than me who could've been chosen." John's hands shook and trembled, anger and frustration filling his angry glare. "Your only a teenager…a fucking nineteen year old! I looked in your file…your _real_ file!"

_Fuck._

America felt his chest soaking with blood as he bled out from the severed artery in his neck. He tried breathing, but everything turned bubbly, hot and painful. A tingly feeling spread over his face, arms, hands and legs.

_Fuck… Ivan…you've gotta stop him. You gotta tell them who I am. Ivan…Ivan where the hell are you?_

* * *

Russia stood at the central control console in the lander, reading the controls and feeling the controls in his hands when a wave of _something_ flooded him. He grew still, letting the feeling of something _wrong_ flow through his chest before he stood and looked around. There was the doctor, the scientists and other cosmonaut and…the astronauts. Alfred and John were both gone.

Frowning, he left the lander and ran out of the room and down the hall, his boots clomping loudly on the floor. The medical bay appeared, and Russia shoved the door open to find John standing over America, clutching a bloody scalpel and yelling at him. America lay on the floor, clutching his neck and trying to breathe. Broiling anger filled him at the sight, and he turned to John.

Without saying a single word, Russia stalked towards him, grabbed his neck and hand and with a single fluid movement, body slammed him to the nearby operating table. John gasped in surprise, but fought back. Russia grasped his hand and cracked it on the table, causing him to release the scalpel and let it clatter to the floor.

"Ah-… you broke my wrist!" John shouted with a groan.

Russia balled a fist and slammed it across his face, instantly knocking him out. Panting softly, Russia checked Johns pulse and after finding it acceptable, turned to America.

Blood pooled on the floor and soaked his clothes and hair. A deathly pale pallor touched his skin, leaving his lips turning blue from lack of air. Russia knelt beside him, uncaring of the blood, and touched his neck. The scalpel had gone clean through his artery and esophagus, slicing them open in a neat line.

America stared up at Russia, worry filling his gaze. His lips mouthed words, but Russia could only make out _please _and _sorry_. Russia pressed a hand to America's face, cupping his bloody jaw-line.

"It is alright. Do not worry." Russia reassured, hating to witness the young nation like this. "I will take care of everything. The ones who are watching…they know. You will be fine."

America seemed to relax, and he touched Russia's hand that cupped his cheek. Crimson rubbed across his pale skin.

"I will see you again." Russia reassured. "And you will be treated kindly. I promise."

America rubbed his fingers across Russia's hand and closed his eyes. Russia stayed in the spot, holding his face and waiting until the temporary death took hold. Finally, after a long moment of silence, Russia stood, stalked to the intercom and slammed his fist into the bright red button at one side.

"I need all personnel in the medical bay immediately. It is an emergency."

* * *

**Three Hours Later**

"This should hold him." The first cosmonaut stated after Russia finished relaying the incident, tearing off a long piece of duct-tape and applying it to John's ankles, tying them to the bottom chair rung.

"I can't believe this." Eliza, geologist with a petite build and fair looks, admitted with a scowl. "What are we going to do?"

"We will keep him tied up for now, so he won't have the chance to do this again." The mission commander explained. "As for Alfred…"

The doctor crouched before America's dead body while the nurse cleaned up the last of the blood. Frowning, he inspected the wound with a critical eye before running his gaze over the rest of the body. Russia sat in a nearby chair, arms crossed over his chest.

"The isolation experiment is over…right?" Eliza asked the group. "They can't keep this going, not when…when Alfred was…" She didn't finish, as she couldn't say what really happened to America.

_If the ones who are watching haven't interrupted this yet, then they are waiting to see what I will do._ Russia thought grimly. _They are treating this as realistic as possible…if this happened while we wer ein transit to Mars…_

"If they haven't come in by now, then they are still watching. Still waiting to see how we handle this." The mission commander said in a quiet voice. "We will keep John tied up until we can figure out what to do with him. He murdered a member of the crew, and should be treated as a criminal now."

The group all nodded in agreement. Russia continued to watch the doctor in suspicion.

_He already suspects something. By tonight he'll know…because America's neck will have healed by then. And by tomorrow morning.. everyone will know._ Russia frowned and thought over his options. _If I don't tell them about us, then they will find out tomorrow and things might end up…badly. If I tell them now, they won't believe me…but will soon see the truth when America wakes back up. Better to tell them now…then try explaining this later._

"…Something is…different about this." The doctor stated with a frown. "He has been confirmed dead for over three hours…but… rigor mortis has not set in. Look at this." The doctor picked up America's arm and moved it up and down, bending it at the elbow twice before setting him back down to the floor. "He is still loose-limbed… he should be stiff right now-"

"That is because he is different." Russia started, standing up from his chair to gaze at the group.

"Different?" The doctor stood as well and faced Russia. "All humans and animals go through rigor mortis after death. It is a naturally occurring process-"

"He is not completely human."

Dead silence.

"We are only shaped after humans, but we are not _human_."

"…We?" Viktor, psychologist, finally spoke up. "This includes you as well?"

"Yes."

"Ridiculous!" The other lead cosmonaut exclaimed. "How can you not be human? You went through the same testing as we did."

"They already knew what we are." Russia explained.

"And…what are you, if you are not human?" Viktor asked, trying to get to the bottom of this. "You look human, you _act_ human…"

"Your body is of a homo sapien, a human being. I have done enough tests and check ups to see this." The doctor added. "I have seen your file-"

"Something the government put together for me."

"The government?" Viktor asked. "Then…they know about you?"

Russia smiled inwardly at that. "Of course they know about me. Because…they _are_ me."

More silence. Russia continued.

"Alfred and I are the personification of the nations America and Russia. A physical representation."

"A…what?" Eliza spoke up. "But…how…?"

"We are kept secret, and only top government officials now about us."

"Then… you represent Russia?"

"I _am_ the Russian Federation." Russia stated firmly. "Alfred _is_ America…the United States of America, if you want to be exact."

"But…how?" Eliza asked again. "It's not physically possible."

"…and yet, here I am." Russia stated firmly. "And America- ah, _Alfred_-…is not dead. Well he is, but it is only temporary."

The doctor stared at him. "Temporary?"

"Yes. Temporary. His neck will heal and he will wake up in the morning. If you don't believe me, then wait and see if it happens."

The crew stared at him, open mouthed with shock. Eliza stared at America, and then turned back to Russia.

"Then… just how old are you then?"

"Physically I am twenty-six. Mentally…well.. I can't remember exactly. I have been alive for centuries." Russia admitted. "America knows his exact age because of his youth."

"Centuries…" Viktor breathed.

"America…why don't you use his full name?" Jamie, biologist, asked.

"Because it is annoying to use his full title… and he prefers it that way."

Russia turned to the door and started exiting the room

"I can see many of you still don't believe me. Just wait, and tomorrow you will see."

* * *

Just as Russia promised, America was fully healed and wide awake the neck morning. The crew was mystified and mostly speechless, as they didn't really know how to approach America or Russia, now they their true identities were revealed. John remained tied up and locked away in an isolation surgical room in the medical bay, and America agreed that it was in the best interests of everyone that he remain like that until the experiment ended.

After a couple of weeks, the crew grew used to their presence, and eventually came to accept them for who they were. All except for one.

America stepped inside the room being used as a cell for John. The man sat in a corner, knees drawn up to his chest. His hair was ragged and face unshaven. America shut the door behind him and relaxed against the wall.

"I…I didn't think… I just…" John stared at the floor, unable to make eye contact with America. "If you had told me the truth from the beginning, I never would have-"

"You knowing wouldn't change anything." America interrupted, voice severe. "It would've made things worse."

"I…" John cut himself off with a sigh.

America glared at him and crossed his arms over his chest. "You…I had such hopes for you."

John wilted and pressed his face to his knees.

"You are the lead astronaut for this mission…a mission to the planet _Mars_… and you let something as small as my _age_ effect you to the point of _murder_?"

"Just…please…" John covered his ears. "I'd never-"

"But you did." America sighed. "And now your chances of continuing this mission are done. You'll be _tried_ back home."

John remained silent and kept his face burrowed in his arms. America stared at him for a moment, his angry glare receding and replaced with a disappointed frown. Slowly, hesitantly, America opened the door and left the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

* * *

Later that night, America sat on the bathroom floor opposite of Russia. Their legs touched and tangled together as they enjoyed the quiet privacy they rarely received in the small, crowded ship. Russia took America's foot, placed it on his thigh and rubbed the arch and ankle. America already held Russia's left foot in his grasp. The two spent most of the day doing heavy lifting and preparing for the "_arrival on Mars_".

"I can't believe he did that." America frowned. "I had so much hope for him."

Russia hummed, and gave a deft _twist_ to his ankle, popping the joint.

"Ah- _fuck_-!" America shouted in a harsh whisper. "Not so _hard_."

"A little pain will do you some good." Russia scolded with a smirk.

"Is that so?" America gripped Russia's ankle, eyes narrowed with a dangerous yet playful glint. "That can go both ways."

Russia squeezed his foot and met his glare with a "Bring-it-on" look. Both glared at each other, a silent stalemate…until America burst into the giggles. Russia smirked with amusement and continued to drag his fingers up and down America's bare foot, tickling the pads of his foot, dragging his finger over the arch, up and up until he reached his toes, and then back down again.

"No-no stop _please_-" America pleaded, gasping and trying to smother his laughter while failing miserably. "_Ivan_-"

Russia smirked, and gave a few more flicks of his fingers before he shifted himself and yanked America to him. America grinned and panted softly, still chuckling slightly as he relaxed against Russia.

A knock sounded at the door.

America pulled away and jumped up, cheeks flushing hotly. Russia stumbled to his feet and started for the door, unlocking it. America stood partially behind Russia, the two of them in navy-blue baggy pants and sleeve-less shirts.

"Ah-, Viktor." Russia exclaimed, false smile firmly in place. "Do you need to use the facilities?"

The psychologist stood in the hall, eyes wide and face turning pink with embarrassment.

"I…hope I am not interrupting anything?"

Russia clenched the door handle, smile still planted on his face. America shoved past him and smiled widely.

"No, no its fine! We were just chatting- things got really busy today and we needed just some downtime, know what I mean?"

"Well I-"

"Sure you do." America interrupted with a winning smile. "You know, its getting pretty late anyways."

Russia turned to America, eyes glinting dangerously in the dim lighting.

"I am not sleepy."

"Well I am." America insisted, shooting a dirty-look at Russia. "And if I want to be at 100% tomorrow, I need to get all eight hours of my beauty sleep, understand?"

Russia sucked in a breath through his nose and leveled a narrowed stare at Viktor. "Fine."

Viktor stepped back and turned back to America, seeming unable to hold Russia's intense gaze.

"Well, it's all yours." America grabbed Russia's right hand and pulled him through the doorway. "Sorry for hogging it."

"It is fine." Viktor managed, scuffing through the door and shutting it behind him.

America turned back to Russia with a frown. Russia stared back, and gently tugged his hand from America's.

"Next time?" America asked, eyes hopeful.

Russia nodded and held America's gaze with his own. The two peered at each other in the darkness for a long moment until America broke it with a grin and clapped a hand on Russia's shoulder.

"Tomorrow, then."

America brushed past him and stepped down the hall to the empty room he slept in. Sliding into his bed, America relaxed and stared at the ceiling. Minus the incident with John, the isolation experiment was a success. The crew took the news of their true selves fairly well, everyone was friendly and trusted each other. The people worked well together, and treated the experiment and the mission itself with huge respect and inner drive, regardless of who they were or where they came from. Inside the walls of the _fake_ Aerojet, the members of the crew were more like a family than anything else.

_Much like the units I served with in the Wars… like the 101__st__ airborne in the second war…_ America grinned at the memory. _They were like my brothers…which is what this crew will be like at the beginning of this mission. On that day when we finally dress in our uniforms, finally get inside our space suits, finally see the Aerojet standing on the platform and drive out to it… and Russia will be with me. _

America's grin softened, and he turned over onto his side.

_We'll work together on this…and when we return, things might got badly again..but at least we'll have the memory of when we worked together and traveled all the way to Mars…where we stood together on the surface for the very first time._

* * *

**Florida – Early Spring 2033**

"Can you believe it? It's finally happening!"

Eliza and the rest of the crew spoke all at once as they cooed and smiled in awe at the Aerojet standing hugely through the window of the truck that drove them to the platform. America stared through the window in utter and complete awe at the sight. Russia sat directly beside him, a similar look filling his face. Slowly, carefully, Russia leaned closer to the other nations, his lips a hair's breadth away from the shell of his ear.

"Thank you for asking me."

America turned to face him, his ear brushing past Russia's mouth. A slow smile stretched across his face; he leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Thank you for saying yes."

**(The End)**


End file.
